Philosophising
by nyaaaaaauuuuuuuu
Summary: Vignetteish. Inuyasha attempts to bother Kagome. Rating for some language.


Disclaimer: I disclaim.

Dedication: To Icy Discordia, Blackberry, and Knock-on-Wood, who left such nice reviews on "Lychee" that I still get all tingly just thinking about it. Ahem. Without further gilding the lily, and with no more ado (smite me if I've got that wrong), I present:

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Philosophising

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"What on earth are you studying _now_?"

"European philosophy," Kagome grunted from behind her book. She sat at the base of a large tree, her knees to her chest and her book balanced awkwardly on her knees. To her left sat her giant yellow pack, and on the ground to her right was one of her 'notebooks' upon which, Inuyasha assumed, she was writing notes about what she was reading.

"What the hell _for_?"

"For my literature class. We're doing a unit on philosophy." Kagome clearly wasn't interested in conversation, so Inuyasha persisted.

"But why do you need to learn it? And what is _European_ philosophy anyway?"

"It's the ideas of some of the more famous European men of the past few centuries. Um, centuries to come—whatever," said Kagome, ignoring the first question, "Remember, Europe is that group of countries far to the west?"

"I thought that was _Amerika_."

"No that's farther west…or east. Anyway. We're looking at Roman and Greek philosophers—"

"Why don't you just stick with Japanese philosophers? Aren't they good enough—"

"We're doing them next. Plus Chinese philosophers really strongly influenced our philosophers…Confucius and Buddhists and stuff. _Anyway_," ploughed Kagome ever forward, "Greek and Roman ones and psychoanalysts like Freud and existentialists like Camus…"

"Existentialists…?" said Inuyasha hesitantly, grasping at the last in a string of unknowns.

"Yeah…they ask questions like why do we exist, or what's our purpose in life, or whether every person is responsible for his own actions, or whether any of us actually really exist at all."

"Keh! What the hell kind of crap is that? Why question things you can see right before your eyes!"

"Ahh, you may think you see it, but do you really know it's there? All you know is that your ears and eyes and nose are telling you that I'm sitting right here before you, but they could be lying. I really could be a figment of your imagination. This whole world could."

Inuyasha had never encountered anything quite like this before. And he was quite sure he preferred battling Naraku. Or Kouga, at least.

"But you are real," he insisted, ears flattened in concentration, as if willing her to understand.

"Am I?" asked Kagome, smiling slightly, "How do you know that?"

"Because I can see you – I can hear you – I can smell you," _Oh yes, can I smell you_, and without quite realizing he was doing it, Inuyasha moved in front of Kagome, seizing the hands that held her book steady, so that it fell off her lap.

"Because I can _feel_ you—" and they were almost nose-to-nose, his eyes searching hers frantically for some sign of confirmation, his breath hot against her face. And as he inhaled her mouth opened as if in response, and he thought, I can almost _taste_ you…

"Inuyasha…" Kagome whispered, "It's okay. I-I do believe that I'm real, and alive, or whatever – I was just, I was just trying to make a poi—"

Kagome inhaled sharply as she felt the tiniest of soft brushes against her lower lip. It was only after her suddenly warm stomach had accompanied what seemed to be most of her blood to her face and had receded that she noticed Inuyasha had disappeared from her vision.

"Keh," she heard from twenty feet above and to her left, "Damn stupid girl and fucking stupid ideas…" Kagome was sure that if trees could blush that one would be giving her face a run for her money.

"Thank you, Inuyasha," Kagome breathed. If I _ever_ doubted my existence, she thought, brushing one thumb across her lips and curling her fingers against one burning cheek, I know that right now, I am surely alive.

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AN: That didn't end up quite as I expected. And it has not been proofed or betaed. I hope to tighten it up and repost in a bit. And next time not write for hours on a slightly dislocated arm.

Au revoir,

nyaaaaaauuuuuuuu


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